


Ultraviolence

by AvandraTheMarySueSlayer



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Gender violence, OMFG I have to use the underage tag because Cat was seventeen at the time, Sexism, Walking out of an abusive relationship, triggering content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvandraTheMarySueSlayer/pseuds/AvandraTheMarySueSlayer
Summary: "He hit me, and it felt like a kiss." Cat's disastrous first experience with love, which taught her to toughen up and trust no one in those regards. Not a pretty story, and sadly not an unfamiliar one for many of us over here.





	Ultraviolence

**Author's Note:**

> Since I am still working on the next chapter of Strangeness and Charm, I'll be updating the one-shots I've been writing for some time in order to practice. They will come weekly. This one deals with a pretty delicate issue. I tried not to make it too graphic or crude, but it might not be an easy read. It does cover the strength it takes for a person to walk out of an abusive relationship, so I'd like to think I've ended it on a positive note. If you decide to go on, you'll be the judge to that, as I'm extremely insecure about this one.

* * *

 

Summer nights had always been Cat's favorite. Up at the walls, the dark sky was spotted with uncountable stars. She had studied a bit about them, and could recognize most of the constellations. Astronomy was an interesting subject of study to her, and Candlekeep had an entire tower dedicated to it, to which she would sneak in at night to take a closer look at the different celestial bodies. And that night would be extra special, because there was to be a meteor shower that only occurred once nearly every century. The young mageling felt envious of the elves and their long lifespans that allowed them to witness such events with a higher frequency than short-lived humans like her. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she wouldn't miss it for the world. Not even for what almost happened. Definitely not for the body being cast away from her home by the water. In nights like those, she felt that perhaps Umberlee liked her. Whatever, she still despised the gods. Selfish pricks.

 

The young woman rubbed her recently injured arm, wondering if it was broken. Anyway, she would have to snatch a potion of healing somehow. She wished she didn't need to resource to that, but she was left no choice. Sitting on the wall parapet, her physical senses focused on the night sky, she reflected on the last months.

 

* * *

He had come shortly after she turned seventeen, during the worst of winter. He was all smiles and pretty words. He claimed to be visiting the keep in order to investigate some old historical tomes, to search for inspiration for his songs. He said that if his music could teach something to his listeners and prevent old tragedies from repeating themselves, then he would feel accomplished and fulfilled. She had been there, listening to his explanation for his visit at his appointment with the great readers, and being the young fool she was, he had her at even before “Greetings, my fair lady”. Which still made quite an impression on her. It was rare to see someone of an age that didn't border on venerable within the walls, and most people were afraid of her. But not him. He didn't see the constant danger to everyone's lives and integrity that the old monks did; he saw a beautiful young lady. That was when Cat learned that appraisal was her weakness.

 

They had endless discussions about history. It was a subject Cat rather enjoyed and which, in her cynical opinion, showcased the infinite stupidity of people and their inability to learn from past mistakes. His outlook was much more positive, of course. He stated that history was full of heroes who set examples for everyone to follow, and that he felt it was his life quest to showcase them, in order to make the world a better place. That was when Cat asked for a song. Her first mistake. She requested a song about a woman of great talent who was overlooked or even feared and distrusted by others, even though she had done nothing to deserve such treatment –what were a few magic experiments gone wrong and some good old nonlethal pranks, anyway? So when he sang an ancient song of the first Rashemi woman who became a warrior and passed her dajemma despite the prohibitions of her time, Cat ended up in tears.

 

“Back then, her people looked down on her for her ambitions, despite being stronger than any man,” he explained afterwards while Cat quickly dried her face with the sleeve of her robe. “But if that could change, perhaps the same can happen here someday.”

 

Needless to say, Cat fell for him.

 

From then on, they met more and more frequently to go for walks along the keep’s gardens, all the while discussing history. He regaled her with songs of forgotten heroes and their epic deeds, as well as stories of his own travels around the world. Cat listened, wide-eyed, as he showed her what she had long craved to see; the wonders of the great outside. Soon, he began to compose songs about the beautiful, captive witch who put his heart under a spell… and she fell for that, too. He was quick to ask her to sneak off into his room at Winthrop’s inn at night… and that was when the real trouble began. Or rather, when Cat realized something wasn't quite right.

 

She and Imoen would frequently sneak into the “secret” erotica section of the library to read the “forbidden tomes”, so she had a basic understanding of how sex worked. However, reality proved to be… somewhat disappointing. All he did was undress her, kiss her and grope and feel her breasts and ass as if he was making dough. It thankfully didn't hurt when he penetrated her… but it was kind of uncomfortable. There had been no foreplay whatsoever, and when he was done, he just pulled out, turned his back to her and asked her to put her clothes back on and leave quickly before someone noticed she was in there. By the time she finished cleaning herself and getting dressed, he was fast asleep, snoring loudly. Well, perhaps it was because it was the first time. Those were never perfect, she had read. But the second time was more of the same, and the third. The only eventual variation was that he sometimes asked her to please him with her hands or mouth, but she received nothing in exchange. Sometimes, he came just with that and called it a night without even touching her. So when she suggested that maybe they could try other things, he laughed and told her she had read too many nasty books, and that _real_ sex had nothing to do with what was depicted in them. That sounded fishy, since Imoen and her favorite books had been written by people with the same set of sex organs as her, and they covered the issue of how to properly stimulate the pleasure areas of bodies like hers.

 

Bed problems aside, he didn't ask her to go for walks anymore; all he wanted to do was meeting up at night in his room and have shitty sex that left her completely unsatisfied, even used. So in the end, being the practical person she was, Cat decided to do something about it. She knew he got up early to go to the library, and only got out to eat –by then he was too busy entertaining the inn occupants for him to spend any quality time with her– and to get back to his room at Winthrop's at night. So the perfect moment to catch him alone would at dawn, before he arrived to the library. To say he was surprised to see her up that early was an understatement. He also looked… upset.

 

“Cat? What are you doing here so early?”

 

“Well… I’d like to talk.”

 

“Darling, I don't really have time for this…” he began.

 

“But this is important!” Cat cut him off. “We barely spend any quality time anymore, only at night in your room. And to be honest, I want more. I want things to be like before, when we’d go for walks and talk about this and that…”

 

“SHUT UP!”

 

The sudden change in volume shocked Cat into complying. Her bard then sighed and spoke to her in the manner a father would a slow-learning infant.

 

“Listen, my dear, I have a lot of work to do on my songs, I need to be focused. I can't do that if I have you around all day.”

 

And she was stupid enough to feel guilty and apologize.

 

And so, she was back to square one. At least until Imoen, the only person who knew about their relationship, noticed how utterly unhappy Cat looked, and questioned her on the matter.

 

“He told you _what_!?” The young rogue was distraught.

 

“Listen, I already knew how important his investigation is to him, so I don't know… perhaps I was really asking for too much,” Cat sighed.

 

“Actual companionship and a _real_ effort to please you are asking for too much? Who are you and what have you done to the Cat I know, who doesn't take shit from anyone?” Imoen demanded, unable to believe what she was hearing.

 

For all response, Cat just looked sadly at her best friend and gave her what years later still considered her best piece of advice.

 

“Don’t ever fall in love, Imoen.”

 

Unbeknownst to Cat, Imoen decided to take matters into her own hands and investigate what was so important for the bard that made him neglect his relationship with her friend. Sure, he wanted to learn about history, old heroes and old tragedies so that people could learn from his songs. But when he was at Winthrop's for lunch and dinner, he never sang about that. Just cheery tavern songs. If he worried so much about teaching people, shouldn't he be starting by sharing his findings? It was the very principle upon which Candlekeep had been founded; a place where knowledge could be freely shared among those who could appreciate it. Cat had just shrugged it off, saying that he probably didn't want to bore his audience, but that was the blindfold of love talking, Imoen was certain of it. So she used her stealth and her ability to hide in shadows, and spied on the bard. She reported her findings to Cat as soon as she made them… and thus, her blindfold fell.

 

“All that stuff about teaching people about history is bullshit! He picks up a few books from the section but doesn't touch them! What he’s really doing is copying all the anonymous books of bardsong.”

 

Cat didn't want to believe that. She wanted to tell Imoen that she was wrong, that he was a kind man, the only one who understood what she went through… but then it clicked. He had everyone fooled with his act, herself included. He had known what buttons to push in order to win everyone's favor from the very beginning.

 

_The bastard._

 

So of course, the very next morning she confronted him about it. He denied everything, claiming that “that brat” was just jealous of Cat and was trying to separate them.

 

“You know,” Cat replied to his accusation, “there's a part of me that wants to believe that… but then I remember Imoen is not interested in you.”

 

She would have said “in men”, but she felt it was not her place to divulge such private information about her best friend. Besides, she wanted to see what other excuses he would make up to cover for what he had really been doing in the keep.

 

Instead, she was met with a slap in the face.

 

If she'd thought his shouting when she first tried to reach out to him had been a shock, that was like being struck by lightning. Like waking up from a beautiful dream, only to find out that it had all just been a lie. That she had been played, manipulated and used by a selfish prick who only saw her as a means of entertainment; something to stick his cock in.

 

And she was _so not_ having that shit.

 

“Very well,” she whispered, choking back tears of pain as she rubbed a hand along her sore, swelling cheek, “if this is how it’s going to be, then it’s over. I’m not someone for you to use as you please. I am done with your bullshit.”

 

Her bard became much less haughty as she began to walk away. He shouted at her to get back, and when she didn't, he said that no one would believe a word an outcast like her would say. Not that she didn't expect just as much; there was probably nothing she could do to expose his real activities at Candlekeep. But then, he became even more unoriginal. Really, there were so many synonyms to “whore” and “slut”, and those were the only two words he managed to come up with. Truly, those who first came up with the common language really hated women. But at least she was free now. Her blindfold had fallen, and she could see the truth. It was ugly, but it was better than being treated like an idiot with pretty lies. And all because he pretended to care. But she would learn. She wouldn't trust anyone's words about how sorry they were that she was so misunderstood. No, she would demand facts first.

 

However, the trouble with her former lover was still not over. From that day on, his songs at Winthrop's, according to Imoen when they met up at their “base of operations” at the stable, became more crass, mostly aimed at shaming lustful women who threw themselves into the arms of any attractive young man who happened to pass by. The irony made Cat throw her head back in laughter, and when she did, her damned hair moved out of place, revealing the mark on her cheek she had tried to hide by parting her thick mane to one side. It didn't matter, the bastard always betrayed her to go on its own way. Imoen gasped at the sight of the bruise.

 

“Whoa, when did you get this?”

 

Cat tried to hold it all off, like she always did, to come up with a somewhat plausible excuse that Imoen would believe, but the weight of everything that happened; of having been manipulated for months and being stupid enough to call it love, of being shamed by the one who had claimed to love her more than anything and to be unable to live without her, the one who _lied_ to her… it suddenly came crashing down on her, and before she could regain her composure, she broke into tears. Imoen held her, and Cat gladly welcomed her arms. She needed someone by her side right then, because never before had she felt so alone. The thief held her in silence until she stopped crying. When that happened, she said the words Cat dreaded so much to hear.

 

“You have to tell the monks. We need to expose him.”

 

“And he will just make something up so they believe him. Don’t you see he’s got them wrapped around his finger?”

 

_Don’t you see you’re the only person who trusts me in here?_

 

“Cat, he has _hit_ you. That can’t go unpunished!”

 

“I agree, but he’s untouchable right now,” Cat sighed. “I broke up with him. There's no more I can do.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Imoen asked, rubbing her friend's back in a soothing manner.

 

“Like I have been slapped,” Cat chuckled weakly. “Like I’ve woken from a dream.”

 

“It must be hard. I’m sorry, Cat.”

 

“Don’t be. I’m glad I’ve seen his true colors,” the mage replied with a sad smile. “I just wish it hadn't taken me this long to figure it out.”

 

Then, she let her head rest on the taller woman's shoulder. Imoen played with her curls. She used to say they were like black springs, and she'd stretch them as far as they could go, to then let go and see how they bounced back into shape. It made her laugh, so Cat let her go along with it. She gave a long sigh.

 

“You know, for someone who is supposed to be a genius, I can be pretty fucking stupid sometimes,” she said.

 

Imoen chuckled and pulled her closer.

 

“It happens to everyone, you silly. Even to the best of us.”

 

The pride in the young thief's voice as she said that made Cat want to cry again. Imoen was oblivious to the constant suspicion and fear everyone else felt for her inside those walls. She had no idea of how fruitlessly the young witch had tried to hear that pride coming from her foster father's voice, but Imoen hadn't seen the coldness of his stare whenever his eyes rested on her. No; to her, the monks were just afraid of Cat's pranks, and Gorion was just a strict master and father. She had no idea how Cat’s life had been before she arrived. So the prospect of having someone else like her, someone who was on her side, someone who understood her, had blinded her completely.

 

“I’ve been such a fool…” She whispered.

 

Despite everything, Cat managed to ignore the bard’s pitiful attempts at mocking her. She knew he wanted to start a fight, and that he had all the winning cards, so she wouldn't fall for that. Thusly, the night of the meteor rain came. There was no other conversation topic among the monks, who would study the phenomenon from the privacy of their quarters or from the astronomy tower. Cat decided to go see it from the western wall, and though she bugged Imoen nonstop, she was unable to convince her to go see it together.

 

“You have any idea how many idiots from the east quarters are going to be in the astronomy tower, leaving their possessions unattended? So many locks to pick, and so little time! Sorry, Cat, but duty calls!” Imoen replied with a mischievous smile.

 

“Don’t you mean kleptomania?” The young witch snorted.

 

And then came that night, when she was standing on the wall, gazing at the stars, studying the position of the constellations while she waited for the meteor shower to begin. That was when it happened.

 

He had been ignored by everyone for the last weeks, since the only thing people paid attention to now was the sky. Cat felt a chill down her spine when she saw him approach her. Had he heard his conversation with Imoen? It had taken place at Winthrop's, and like ever since they broke up, she hadn't even bothered to look in his direction or pay any mind to his presence.

 

“So, where are those meteors everyone keeps babbling about?” He asked, rage evident in his voice… and alcohol abuse, too. “Why don’t you show me, Cat?”

 

“Fuck off,” she hissed at him, hoping he would just go away and leave her the Hells alone.

 

“No, I think I’m staying for a while,” he said as he forcibly grabbed her wrist and twisted it to prevent her from trying to escape, with much more force than he should have. Had he drunk a potion of strength as well?

 

She stomped on his foot, and he let her go with a curse. She was ready to punch him, but he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the parapet of the wall, bending her trapped limb behind her back. It actually made her cry out in pain.

 

Then, she felt him over her, leaning his weight on hers and pressing her further against the parapet. She felt one of his hands making its way up her thigh, lifting her robe along the way, and she felt _scared._

 

“You know,” he whispered in her ear. He reeked of wine and rotten desires, “it’s been a while since we last fucked.”

 

“Don’t you dare!” Cat exclaimed, trying in vain to escape his grip. “Try it and I’ll scream!”

 

“No one will hear you,” the disgusting creature chuckled, triumphant. “Just like no one heard you when I did _this_ before.”

 

The swine twisted her arm again, prompting another scream from Cat. She could tell the bastard liked it, and when she began to see tiny lights before her eyes, she wondered if he had broken any of her bones.

 

“I’m going to expose you to everyone,” she threatened, trying to break free despite the searing pain in her arm. “They'll know you’re nothing but a fraud and a disgusting vermin!”

 

“And who do you think will believe you, my dear Cat?” He whispered in her ear again, making her flinch at the stench of his dirt. “Nobody wants you around. You’re an outcast, alone inside these walls, so I can do whatever I want… and you can’t stop me.”

 

His hand ventured higher to the inside of her thigh, and she felt like throwing up. No, this would not happen. She would not allow it. He had crossed the line.

 

He was going down.

 

It wouldn't be until much later in her life that she’d find out it had been thanks to her murder-tainted blood that she had managed to accomplish such a feat. With a sweep of her feet, she made the bard lose balance and fall. Despite having taken a potion of strength, he could not rival her right then, when she lifted him by the collar of his shirt with her good arm. He tried to kick and force himself free, but it was to no avail. He saw a wicked glow in her eyes, usually green, now crimson like blood. She smiled as she smelled his fear, wetting his pants and shoving his words back into his throat, making him choke in them. As he pleaded and begged, she moved closer to the parapet. As he lied again, telling her he loved her, she let him go. She watched as his body fell, his scream falling on no other ears than hers. She smiled as the sharp rocks of the cliff broke him. She watched until the sea swallowed him whole.

 

Once the high of her first kill was over, however, Cat realized she was in a bit of a predicament. The dear, acclaimed bard would be missed, and disappearing without his possessions would surely raise suspicion. It wouldn't be long before the diviners found out what truly happened. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right; they would never be on her side. She needed to do something about it… but what?

 

Cat watched the waves, softly moving back and forth, unlike when they rose to claim the bard’s remains. An idea flourished in her mind.

 

It was the first and last time she prayed… though it felt less like praying than like casual, one-sided conversation.

 

_Hey, Bitch Queen. Could you do me this tiny, teeny favor? Swallow something else, and in exchange I’ll assist one of your followers if I have the chance and they need me._

 

Awaiting no response, Cat rushed to Winthrop's inn. When she used to sneak into the dead bard’s room, she’d sing a birdsong he taught her to imitate, and he’d throw a rope for her to climb. As she had predicted, he had used it to discreetly leave the inn, hoping he would be back soon enough. The idiot. Giving a firm tug at it to ensure it had been well secured, Cat climbed up, like she had done so many times before.

 

His room hadn't changed much from the last time she had visited it. He had his robes inside his wardrobe, his backpack leaning against the wall, some notes on his table… Cat peeped at them and saw what they were, and decided to leave them and take every other of his belongings with her, along with his backpack. That way, when the monks investigated his disappearance, they would immediately find out what he had actually been up to, and if everything went well, they would conclude their investigation with no consequences for her. It was then that she saw he had borrowed a book from the library. The young woman paused for a moment… She was contemplating something that even she considered little less than sacrilegious. Not to mention that it would mean a heavy punishment for her if Umberlee didn't agree to cover her tracks. But what other option did she have? She had already committed murder; it wasn't like it could get much worse.

 

In a rush, she packed the book, climbed down and returned to her spot at the western wall. Looking down at the waves, she emptied the contents of the backpack, and then she threw it down as well. The waves raised to meet her offering and swallowed it. She felt peace. Somehow, she knew she had managed to strike a deal with one of the flimsiest, most dangerous deities that existed. And she knew that when the moment came, she would honor her part of the deal.

 

* * *

From her seat at the parapet, Cat saw the first shooting star. She was tempted to close her eyes and make a wish, but that was something for foolish little girls, not for a grown woman who already knew better. Actual wish spells were amongst the most advanced magic in existence. Words were nothing but words, and thus they were never to be trusted. Actions, on the other hand, spoke volumes of their carrier’s character, if one knew how to look. That much, at least, she had learned. After that disastrous first experience with love, she felt much wiser, and confident that she wouldn't get fooled again. As the comets began to rain down in the shape of shooting stars, one after another, she let her feet kick the air and focused on nothing but the once in a lifetime happening up in the sky, on the soft summer breeze caressing her face, even despite the pain in her arm. In that fleeting moment, there was nothing else, _no one_ that she needed.

 

And she would be damned if she ever needed anyone to the point of letting them use her, ever again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was hard to write at the time, and even harder to review and proofread these last days. I don't actually like dealing with dark themes such as these, but lately it seems to be all I am capable of writing. I guess my mind's at the wrong place. Also, the lore about Rashemen was completely made up by me and I have no idea if it's legit, so please bear with me if you are a bit picky with canon.
> 
> Anyway, it would make me really happy to hear your thoughts on this one, whether they're positive or negative. And do take care, and stay strong. Love you all.


End file.
